


Needle

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Awakening Era Anders (Dragon Age), F/M, Male-Female Friendship, Prompt Fic, Warden Anders (Dragon Age), Warden Cousland (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: Crackles from the fire sang in chorus with the buzzing of life somewhere out in the wilderness. It provided a soothing white noise to fill the old, familiar silence, the space in which conversation failed. For a while, he studied the flames, watched how the hazard orange glow cast long and looming shadows across the camp...





	Needle

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt fill for the Saturday writing thread on r/dragonage - it was "one word prompt" week. Enjoy!

**One Word Prompt:** Needle

  
Crackles from the fire sang in chorus with the buzzing of life somewhere out in the wilderness. It provided a soothing white noise to fill the old, familiar silence, the space in which conversation failed. For a while, he studied the flames, watched how the hazard orange glow cast long and looming shadows across the camp. With an empty mind, for once, Anders fixed his gaze on the glowing embers that flickered amongst the kindling and briefly lost himself in their dance. Or was it a struggle, as they lapped at the dense canopy in a desperate attempt to thrive?

Laying his head back against the bedroll to clutch at even the slightest wisps of sleep, so that he might rest his mind and be marginally useful in the field tomorrow morning, lasted for all of a second before the vulgar rumble of snores drifted over from Oghren’s side of the camp and intruded upon the peace. Whatever fog that had been finally taking hold in his mind, pulling him into its depths, had been violently chased off. 

Consciousness was unwittingly thrust back upon him: _ Andraste’s tits, Dwarf. _

There was no use fighting it, Anders realized and propped himself up on his elbows to glimpse into the blackness, waiting for his eyes to adjust so he could make out the shapes of his other companions. Unexpectedly (or perhaps expectedly?) he found himself not lacking in like company. The Warden-Commander herself remained wide awake and deeply engrossed in a mess of armor and under-clothing within her lap. She hadn’t acknowledged him at all and continued quietly mending the day’s wear and tear.

His eyes followed the mesmerizing rhythm her fingers performed as they bobbed up, down, and around with the fine needle precariously held between two pale digits. 

_ She worked a different sort of magic to that which he knew, one that involved colored thread and the quiet humming of his favorite song. Gently she pulled and pushed through the fabric, and with each loop, the design took shape. He found himself humming along and leaning deeper into her. She was so soft and warm, with the smell of wildflowers clinging to her clothes… _

The memory was carried away on the plumes of smoke from the dimming fire, and he considered feeding into it to keep it from burning out, but it was a forgotten thought.

“Funny,” he murmured in the dark and sat straight up once more, having given up on rest almost entirely. 

The Commander ceased in her work and turned her face towards him, blue eyes catching in the firelight. For someone so young, she carried many burdens; if one were to judge by her sinking shoulders and the coltish expressions that she wore so often. Though despite whatever baggage that weighed her down, she had been nothing short of a steadfast friend and leader. 

“What’s funny?” She asked, and he could make out the slightest quirk of a brow.

Anders lifted his chin at her project, a pair of trousers that looked oddly like his own that she had been idly patching while she thought he slept. Maker, she was a funny one, always taking care of her Wardens like they were her family rather than her subordinates. 

He scratched idly behind one ear and followed up with a sideways smile, “I didn’t think noble girls like yourself even knew what a needle and thread were. Let alone know how to use it.”

Laerke snickered and resumed, her head shaking subtly. “Go back to sleep, Anders. Can’t have you dozing in the middle of a battle, and I don’t think the darkspawn would be so willing to let you get a nap in first.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, Commander. What’s a little magic while sleep-deprived?”

“Anders,” She scolded though her tone remained friendly.

With a few chuckles, he waved her off dismissively and sank back into the bedroll. If nothing else, resting his eyes was sufficient enough.


End file.
